The Christmas Reunion
by GuiltyRed
Summary: In which the triplets find a new mother and hold a Christmas reunion. Utter crack! Happy holidays.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

High white-capped peaks, jagged as a carnivore's teeth, stand defiant in the face of the storm. From secret places far below come the sounds of battle.

The sounds of battle lost.

The leader of the fated expedition, sensing his own life now forfeit, cries out to his comrades to ensure the safety of that which he has fallen to protect. In answer, a single black helicopter rises into the tempest and speeds its precious cargo toward safety.

As is usual in situations like these, no one paused to wonder where the film footage came from. Square Enix had wanted to use the award-winning cinematography team from Peter Jackson's "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers," as they seemed to know their way around epic films that start with doomed battles beneath ominous, snow-covered mountains.

But Squeenix couldn't afford them.

A second helicopter, this one bearing the logo of _Junon Rent-All_, struggled to keep up with the sleek ShinRa® chopper. Loud voices carried through the cheap Plexiglas as its tightly-packed occupants exchanged heated words.

"I don't care who you talked to, I am NOT going down there!"

"But we brought out the entire crew, Mike. And you gotta admit, it's a dirty job…"

"Screw that! Some things are just better left to the specialists! Ah, hell, why didn't anyone tell me Doug gets airsick? Man, I've seen that guy's breakfast too many times lately. Doug! Get a grip!"

"Look, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Mike. I wouldn't have set it up if I didn't think you'd be safe doing it. Pilot, can you get us into that crater?"

"Belay that order, captain! Barsky, I wouldn't go down there if my ass were on fire and Rufus Shinra owned the last working extinguisher!"

A third voice joined the first two, its tone pure misery. "Aw, man, Doug just yarked all over the sound equipment!"

"That's it! We are OUT of here!"

And so it began…

Final Fantasy VII – Advent Children

"Christmas Reunion"

**A/N:** Apologies to Mike Rowe and "Dirty Jobs" – he's right, some things are just better left to the Turks.


	2. 1

**1.**

"No! You're lying!" Kadaj screamed at the man in a spray of spittle. So great was his vehemence that the very trees trembled.

"You meanie!" Loz whimpered, struggling to keep his youngest brother from attacking the stranger who was that worst of things, a bearer of bad news.

Said wet blanket, one Vincent Valentine, had the good grace to hang his head as he murmured, "I'm sorry, but no, I'm not."

Loz broke down and cried. As streamers of snot rained into Kadaj's hair, the little swordsman's expression shifted from rabid to something a little less focused.

Yazuu cleared his throat, tossed his hair in that evil bishie sort of way, and fixed Valentine with a murderous glare that would have wilted a lesser man. "Let me see if I've got this straight: Mother is only using us and plans to sacrifice the cute one to bring about the return of Sephiroth. And, on top of that, _you_ think she's really the queen from _'Alien'_; thank you _so_ much, Sigourney Weaver. What are we supposed to do now?"

With what may have been a shrug beneath several layers of mouldering crimson shroud, Vincent mumbled, "There are plenty of other mother figures around. I suggest you attach yourselves to one of those," then vanished spectrally into the undergrowth.

Yazuu sighed and turned toward his brothers. He smiled a little at the touching sight: Loz was holding Kadaj as though he'd never let his little brother go.

Trapped in Loz' crushing embrace, Kadaj was beginning to turn slightly blue.

"This is going to be tricky," Yazuu observed. He would have to do a lot of research to find a suitable mother for them, and Kadaj wasn't likely to accept her without extreme measures, as his fixation on Jenova was pretty tight. Yazuu had never thought that was particularly healthy, especially for a boy; Vincent's news was one hell of a wake-up call, that's for damn sure. "Loz?"

"Yes, Yazuu?" Loz sniveled, wiping his nose on Kadaj's sleeve.

"Knock him out for a while. I have work to do."

Before Kadaj could complain Loz unleashed the Dual Hound, and the smallest remnant crumpled to the forest floor.


	3. 2

**2.**

"It was just a bad dream," Yazuu purred.

Kadaj frowned. "But wasn't there someone here, in a red cape?"

"Well, we _did_ get to meet Sigourney Weaver," Loz blurted, his voice cutting out with a grunt as Yazuu's elbow connected with his stomach.

"Yes, there was," Yazuu replied smoothly. "He got the drop on you and held you hostage for those two Turks we'd captured. Naturally, we accepted his terms. What else are brothers for?"

Kadaj glared darkly at the two. "Considering that you usually keep me awake with your monkey noises, I could think of a few things."

Yazuu sighed and went back to leafing through a stack of magazines. He'd swiped them from the local library in the hopes they might inspire him in his search for a new mother figure, but so far, no dice. He _had_, however, found a recipe for a seven-layer chocolate cake and learned how to turn tangerines into votive lamps.

"Well, I'm going to go look for Mother," Kadaj stated, heading for his bike.

"We're going with you," Yazuu said, tossing the magazines into the pond. He needed the wind in his face to clear his thoughts; besides, Loz always got the hots watching his hair whip around in the slipstream.

"Hey," Loz growled, grabbing Yazuu by the arm. "I thought you said –"

"Ixnay on the ewnay anplay," Yazuu hissed. "I'll take care of this. Just humor him."

The three mounted their bikes and sped toward the wasteland, hot in pursuit of whatever delirious goal Kadaj had cooked up this time. In happy coincidence, they arrived at a convenient lookout point just in time to see Cloud Strife hauling ass across the hardpack.

"I'll make him give me Mother!" Kadaj cried.

"NO!" Yazuu and Loz shouted as one. "You stay here and make prank calls or something," Yazuu continued in a mildly strained voice. "We'll take care of this."

"But who could I – oh, right!" Kadaj grinned and whipped out his cell phone as his brothers gave chase.

Cloud, two-time victim of rush hour road rage, sensed the dangerous bikers approaching from behind. Like any safety-minded citizen, he made sure his swords were readily accessible, then sped up.

Loz got close enough to Yazuu to yell, "Um, why are we chasing this guy?"

"Because he expects us to, and because we have to do something to distract Kadaj from our real quest," Yazuu shouted back. "Just pester him about Mother!"

"Right!"

Loz angled in and sideswiped Cloud's bike, leaving scratches in the shiny finish. "Where's Mother?"

"Bite me!" Cloud growled. "You jacked my bike, you bastard!"

"You're awfully cute when you're angry," Yazuu taunted, licking his lips.

"What is _with_ you silver-haired types, anyway? No means no!"

Yazuu noted the parcel strapped to the seat behind Cloud and raised an eyebrow. "Where are you going, in such a hurry and with such a large package? Don't tell me what's in it, let me guess!"

"That's not your mother, you fruitcake, it's a purchase return," Cloud snarled. "I'm on my way to Kmart, if you must know, before Tifa drills me a new asshole. Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Yazuu glanced back at the bluff. Kadaj was just ending a call and putting his phone away, his expression pure malicious glee. Yazuu nodded to Loz and turned his bike around. He gave one last smirk in Cloud's direction and jeered, "Have Tifa call me if she needs any help!"

As Cloud hurried on toward his destination, he pondered the cruelty of fate and the overall weirdness of his life.

A gentle but insistent voice spoke into his head. "Keep your eyes on the road, you doofus! Next time you doze off on your bike I swear I'll ream you harder than Tifa ever fantasized, and you'll beg me to do it!"

Cloud blushed. "You know about that?"

Smug silence was the only reply.


	4. 3

**3.**

"Are you sure it's okay, leaving him alone like that?" Loz asked, clearly worried.

Yazuu shrugged. "Worst that'll happen is he'll thrash the Turks until Shinra hands over Mother, in which case we're all screwed."

"Um, was that supposed to make me feel better, Yazuu? Because, you know, it didn't, not really…"

"Hush, they're coming!" Yazuu paced around to the back of the stolen truck, where a number of kids had begun to assemble.

One pointed up at the hastily-painted sign on the tailgate. "Where's the punch and pie?"

"There isn't any," Yazuu told him. "But I'd like to ask you a question."

A few of the kids left on hearing there wouldn't be any free food. The ones who remained looked curiously up at the pretty stranger in skin-tight black leather.

A particularly small boy tugged on Yazuu's sleeve. "Are you a pervert?"

"Call me when you're taller."

"So, what did you want to ask us?" whined a skinny girl clutching a funny-smelling moogle doll.

Yazuu chose his words and spoke clearly to the small crowd. "Your mothers or caretakers, who do they look to for guidance in family things? If you were to name the perfect homemaker, who would that be?"

The kids mumbled amongst themselves, and for a moment Yazuu feared they were about to bolt. Then one tiny girl did run, but only as far as the news kiosk. She swiped a magazine and hurtled back toward Yazuu, a look of urgency on her sweet larcenous face. "Her!" the girl cried, thrusting the magazine into Yazuu's puzzled grasp.

A few of the kids who had gotten a look at the picture on the cover nodded.

"Yeah, that's the one!"

"My ma says she's like a guru or something!"

"She's perfect!"

"Perfect, eh?" Yazuu whispered, staring at the magazine.

"Hey! Where's my money?" shouted the newsmonger.

Loz aimed a Velvet Nightmare at the man's head. "This one's a free sample. Ain't it?"

The vendor backed down.

As the kids began to disperse, Yazuu thumbed through the magazine: article upon article on cooking and decorating, on being a gracious hostess and maintaining a cheery home. So far, nothing any different from the library rags. He snarled a little, despairing of finding anything useful.

And then he saw it. Bold print, page 42.

**How to Host the Perfect Reunion**

"Bingo."


	5. 4

**4.**

"That went well…"

Reno peeled himself up from the floor, staggered unsteadily, and glowered at his partner. "_Well?_ I need stitches, and you think that went _well?_"

Rude shrugged as he finished unhooking the mangled sunglasses from his earrings. "All things considered…"

The beblanketed form in the wheelchair let out a windy sigh. "He's right, Reno. That could have been a whole lot worse. Good thing he got bored with Twister."

"Now what, boss?" Rude asked, pulling another pair of shades from his pocket. They sat askew on his face, as they, too, had been mangled in the course of the little remnant's game.

"Now, we –"

::He's not coming back.::

"What?"

"What?"

"Huh?"

Rufus and his two remaining Turks looked from one to the other to the next and back again. "Did you say something?" Rufus asked, not specifically addressing either one.

"Nope."

"No…"

::The small one. He's not coming back for me.::

Rufus felt the cold claws of fear slide down his spine like a chalkboard. He glanced down at his lap. "Are you talking to me?"

"Whoa, boss!" Reno backed toward the door. "I'll, uh, I'll just wait outside, yo! C'mon, Rude, man needs a little private time!"

Realizing belatedly what Reno must have thought, Rufus reminded himself to smack the redhead soundly about the ears as soon as he could get out of the damned wheelchair.

::Stop thinking about such petty tripe! I have issues, dammit! My vessel has abandoned me!::

"Um, Jenova? Miss? What makes you think –?"

::The effeminate one has learned the truth, and refuses to make the sacrifice. No matter. If he wants to keep the boy for his own dark designs, I grant him his wish. There will be time later for – but I'm rambling.::

Rufus didn't want to think about what might be coming down the pike, as things were plenty creepy enough already. Rather than ask or invite knowledge he'd really rather not be privy to, Rufus tried another tack. "So, will you be taking a holiday, then?"

::Of course not, foolish human! I must simply find a new host, one not given to childish games and bondage gear.::

Overcome by an alien impulse, and unable to stand up to pace, Rufus began rolling his chair back and forth across the room as Jenova pondered her options.

::Maybe we could go with someone taller, yes, I think that would be nice. Kadaj is such a pretty boy, but _damn_ he's short. Strong bodied, weak willed – maybe an addict of some kind? A violent temper would be handy, that way he wouldn't get squeamish about the whole 'destroying the world' thing, at least not until it was a done deal.::

An image flared in Rufus' mind. He struggled to hide it from Jenova, but her chuckle told him he'd failed miserably.

::Yessss…a yearning for space travel…::


	6. 5

**5.**

"I don't see why you'd invite me all the way out here and not want something illegal, you damn skunkwad!"

Rufus rubbed his temples. "I just wanted to talk with you, Mr. Highwind. You know, talk? Civilly? Over tea?"

"Talk over tea my ass! There ain't no goddamn tea, and no whiskey neither!" Cid paused a moment to chew on his cigarette and contemplate his next verbal barrage.

::Go into the kitchenette – the tea should be ready.::

"If you'll bear with me a moment," Rufus grated, "I'll be right back in with the tea."

"Ah, knowing you Shinras, you'll be back in with a half dozen thugs lookin' to jack me up, you good-for-nothin' piece of –"

The door swooshed shut behind the wheelchair, and Rufus let out the breath he'd been holding. He took a few more measured breaths in an effort to defuse the headache that had begun to settle in behind his right eyeball.

The tea was, indeed, ready: a neat little teapot full of Wutaian black sat beside two cups on a matching tray. Rufus lifted the pot and filled the first cup, then aimed for the second.

Jenova's telepathic control stopped him cold. ::Now, dump me into the tea!::

"What?!?"

"What?" came Cid's muffled voice.

"Nothing!" Rufus called, his voice breaking on the second syllable. To Jenova, he hissed, "What do you mean, dump you in the tea?"

::How else am I going to claim my new host, you idiot? Get him to scoop me up and stuff me into his solar plexus?::

"Well…"

::Do it now! Before he gets curious!::

Hands trembling, Rufus Shinra tore off the safety tape on the containment box and felt around for the seam that had to be there somewhere. His fingernails slid home, and he pried the box open.

His mind reeled at the eldritch horror within the simple black box, and for a moment he felt his sanity skip tracks like a chipped record. Then the soothing voice of Mother came to his rescue. ::Open the teapot, that's a good boy…::

Rufus lifted the lid off the teapot, aimed the black box at the steaming liquid, and dumped. Viscous green goop clung to the box; Rufus cast about for something to scrape it loose with, found the teaspoon, improvised. Within moments, most of the remaining Jenova cells were lying quietly beneath serene waters, much like Cthulhu at R'lyeh though not sleeping so much as gloating.

Not sure what to do with the slime-covered teaspoon, Rufus chucked it into the black box and forced the lid back on. He slid the tea service onto his lap and turned back toward the door, and his guest.

"About goddamn time! You stuffed shirts, y'all think you can yank us around, make us wait for –"

"Tea," Rufus said with a wide, yet somehow lopsided, smile. He poured the second cup, noting with a shudder that the liquid was now an opaque and oily greenish-black.

Cid stared, his expression slowly turning to one of admiration. He lifted the cup and sniffed. "Is this what I think it is?"

"I strongly doubt it."

Cid grinned and raised his cup in a little toast. "Well, I gotta say I had you wrong, Roof! Here I was, thinkin' you had some kinda ulterior motive!" He took a sip, frowned, then drained the cup. "Damn, that's some strong –" Mid-sentence, Cid Highwind toppled sideways to the floor.

Unnoticed by either man, the liquid that spilled from the fallen cup began to eat through the hardwood.


	7. 6

**6.**

"This is the one." Yazuu gazed at the pristine yet homey edifice in wonder. The open magazine trembled in his hand, the picture a perfect match for the reality now before them. "We've found her!"

Loz scuffed his toe in the flowerbed, dislodging a few neat little stones and stirring up the winter mulch. "I don't know about this, Yazuu. I don't think we belong here."

"Nonsense, my dim yet handsome brother!" Yazuu caressed Loz' face, then gripped him by the jaw and aimed his eyes at the doormat. "See? It says 'WELCOME!' – besides, she's renowned the world over as a first-class hostess. She wouldn't turn us away, especially after she's learned how far we've come to meet her."

Kadaj scowled like a petulant two-year-old, his pretty features screwed up in a mask of unhappy. "I don't care what you say, she's NOT my mother!"

Yazuu sighed, handed the magazine to Loz, and rounded on the brat. "Kadaj, for the last time – do you WANT to be used up and discarded and never even get to meet Sephiroth face to face? Or…" Yazuu smiled then, a slithery kind of smile that usually meant very bad things for the viewer, but in this case it only meant that Kadaj was about to be outsmarted, big-time. "Or would you like to let Mother know that you'd love her even more if she would only let you meet your big brother, before she used you for the end of the world? She'll figure it out, you know, and I bet she'll come through for you. Just you wait."

Hope shining in his naïve little cat-eyes, Kadaj looked up at Yazuu and risked a small smile. "You really think she'd –?"

"Of course she would!" Yazuu stated, turning around so Kadaj wouldn't see him cracking up. Personally, Yazuu thought that if Jenova ever figured out what he was up to, he'd be viewing the world through Sephiroth's asshole – if he was lucky. Still, if Kadaj could just shut up long enough for Yazuu to buy them some more time, all bets would be off. "Now, shall we meet the woman that Mother would surely want to be?"

Loz distracted him with a tap on the shoulder. "Um, Yazuu? The sign says 'Paparazzi Will Be Eaten'…"

"What's a paparazzi?" Kadaj whispered, hiding behind Loz.

"Well, one thing's for certain: we're not that," Yazuu stated firmly, then rang the doorbell.

The three remnants could hear footsteps on the other side, echoing through a large open space, moving downstairs, crossing another large open space, and then:

"Oh! Are you collecting for a school trip, boys?"

Yazuu frowned. This woman didn't match the mugshot. "We're here to meet _her_," he demanded as he tilted his head for dramatic impact.

The woman tilted her head as well, though in her case it denoted simple human puzzlement. "Are you…fans? That seems rather odd…teenage boys don't usually…" Then she seemed to really look at Yazuu, and her expression brightened. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, it's just so easy to presume everyone is straight. Please, do come in!"

As Yazuu led his less dainty brothers into the parlor, the woman checked behind them to make sure they weren't followed. _Perhaps she's the owner's bodyguard_, he mused. _Though she doesn't look very strong…then again, Turks didn't always look strong. That redhead, for example – he looks more like he's built to dance than to fight, and those long legs…I wonder how he'd be to –_

Approaching footsteps broke his train of thought, but not before he'd bookmarked it for later consideration. Someone was coming down the sweeping staircase, their footfalls crisp but unhurried. Yazuu felt his breath catch in his throat as he caught his first glimpse of their new mother.

Loz gasped, riffled through the magazine he still held clenched in his hands, looked up again, then whispered, "It's HER!"

The name formed on Yazuu's lips like a prayer. "Martha Stewart."

**A/N:** Cookies and an internet to those who saw this coming. ~_^


	8. 7

**7.**

"…and now we may never get to our reunion," Kadaj finished after pontificating for three solid hours.

Martha Stewart blinked and muffled a yawn. "Reunion, you say?"

"Yes," Yazuu answered before Kadaj could catch his breath to start another round. "It's our sole purpose. Only then will our big brother be able to return to us."

"What a sad story! I'll tell you, you boys have come to the right place," Martha said with a reassuring smile. "Hosting a family reunion for the first time can be a nightmare, especially when you're dealing with a large clan. I'd be happy to help you!"

"You're being so nice to us," Loz sniffled, close to tears. "Will you be our new mother?"

Martha sat back a little, no doubt wondering if the larger brother had all his marbles.

Yazuu sighed, wondering the same thing. "What he means is that our mother is missing, and we really need her advice. You are the one all mothers look to, and so we thought that you could help us."

"Wait, you said –" Loz started, but Yazuu clamped a hand over his mouth.

"All in good time, brother," Yazuu whispered, tickling Loz' ear with his tongue.

Loz forgot what they were talking about and quickly excused himself to the bathroom.

Kadaj helped himself to another handful of cookies and observed, "You do make better snacks than our mother. At least, I think you do. I've never actually met her…"

Martha Stewart sat back, mildly stunned by this news. _Then again, it might explain the odd display of affection between the older two…_ "No wonder you boys were out wandering the wilderness. And it's nearly Christmas! That decides it. You're staying with me until we can get this all sorted out."

"But what about the reunion?" Kadaj mumbled through a mouthful of lemon shortbread.

"Leave that to me," Martha told him, her eyes ablaze with purpose. "All you need to worry about is the guest list."

"Guest list?" Yazuu echoed. "They know who they are."

"A proper party starts with a plan and invitations," Martha stated firmly. "I will teach you how to be a proper hostess – er, host – and you will do the rest. Don't worry, you'll have your reunion. Now, how many guests are we looking at?"

Yazuu ran through the math in his head. "Probably…half the citizens of Midgar – oh, it's 'Edge' now, that's right. Urban blight or some such…"

"And I want Shinra there," Kadaj blurted maliciously. "I want him to see everything!"

"Sounds like there's some bad blood here," Ms. Stewart observed. "It's still good form to invite everyone, and trust them to be on their best behavior. Besides, I have bouncers if things get rough. But we may want to forego the bar…"


	9. 8

**8.**

"For the last time, get me a goddamn cigarette that doesn't taste like a chocobo's ass end!"

Rufus gnashed his teeth so hard he got a cramp in his chin. He looked up at the towering nightmare that loomed over him – black leather coat, long silver hair, two-day stubble – and cursed Jenova's brilliant idea of a host. "For the last time," Rufus parroted with full sarcasm, "they're _all_ going to taste like that – YOU DON'T SMOKE!"

Sephiroth grabbed Rufus by the front of his blanket and snarled into his face. "Then why do I want a goddamn _cigarette_?"

::Honey, dearest…::

"I'm not listening to you anymore, Mother," Sephiroth muttered. "You promised me a return to glory, when I could scour this planet of its human vermin and –"

::Travel the cosmos on its burned-out husk, yes, yes, I know it all too well,:: Jenova replied, the lid of the teapot rattling. ::But son, I got you a pilot! Your very own space pilot! Now you won't get lost as you wander aimlessly looking for another world to plunder.::

Sephiroth paused in his rampage as though considering her words. Then he smiled a dark and nasty smile, made all the more dark and nasty by his 5-o'clock shadow. "This one has a wife," he murmured. "I've never done _that_ before…"

::Don't you dare walk out on me over some – some – _strumpet_!:: Jenova screeched. ::Rufus, don't let him go!::

"Like hell I'm getting in the middle of this!" Rufus shouted.

Sephiroth left the two of them to sort things out and strode purposely out to the airship. He knew Shera would be on board, waiting for her husband to come back and bitch to her about Shinra's latest antics. He knew she would accept his advances without question, as they usually 'did it' before every trip.

He knew she was wearing Wutaian lace under her flight suit.

Kicking open the cabin door, he shouted, "Honey, I'm home!"

Not about to let any man get the drop on her, especially not one who was now possessing her husband, Shera jumped out from behind a bulkhead and swung her weapon with expert aim.

As the skillet whanged Sephiroth upside the head, the unstable Jenova cells broke down: the Nightmare Reborn vanished in a puff of black feathers, leaving Cid Highwind to recover from a simultaneous concussion and world-class hangover.


	10. 9

**9.**

::I was afraid this would happen…::

"So…now what?"

::Put me back in the box. I have to think.::

Rufus stared at the teapot for a moment, debating whether to use a strainer or a coffee filter to separate the contents.

::Don't worry about it, just pour it all in!::

"Typical woman," Rufus grumbled as he pried open the black box and lifted the teapot. "Do it _this_ way, then do it _that_ way, put it over _here_, move it over _there_…first you want the teapot, now you want back in the damn box. There's seriously no pleasing you, is there?"

Jenova didn't answer.

Rufus sighed and settled the box on his lap under the blanket. He had to admit, now that it was filled with warm tea, it didn't feel half bad.

Through the window, he could see Cid's airship speeding the hell away from there. They had dumped their chemical toilet on the lawn in protest against All Things Shinra, and Rufus was fairly certain he wouldn't be seeing the Highwinds again any time soon. With them gone and Jenova plotting quietly, Rufus settled back in his chair for a much-needed nap.

The door burst open, startling Rufus into an adrenaline-enhanced wakefulness.

Reno and Elena were engaged in a catfight over a scrap of paper clutched in the blond Turk's tiny yet lethal fist. Behind them, Tseng and Rude watched intently, as though they had money riding on the outcome.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rufus shouted, startling them into a momentary standstill.

"Oh shit," Reno muttered. "Sorry, boss, thought we were in the kitchen…"

"Next room over," Rufus reminded him, gesturing at the door.

Elena took the opportunity to stuff the paper down her shirt and bolt for the window.

Tseng caught her by the necktie and let her dangle like an unrepentant chihuahua.

"Before I kick you all out so I can get some goddamn sleep," Rufus said in a deceptively mild tone, "do be so kind as to tell me what's on the paper?"

"It's an invitation," Elena panted, toes finally getting enough purchase to take the weight off the makeshift leash.

"It's _my_ invitation, yo!" Reno snarled, reaching for her.

Tseng cleared his throat. "Just because you're the one who found it on the fax machine does not make it your invitation, Reno."

Rufus held out his hand in an imperious gesture of 'gimme'.

Elena sighed and handed over the rumpled sheet of paper.

Rufus cleared his throat and read out loud. "_You are invited to a family reunion!_" He met Tseng's gaze and exchanged a concerned, yet heated, look. "_We apologize for the short notice, but we were just so darned excited at the thought of having everyone here for Christmas that we just couldn't help ourselves! That's right, we want EVERYONE to come together for this once-in-a-lifetime event!_ There's an address, but no names… You don't think…?"

"I do think, and I think it's probably _them_," Tseng stated, rubbing his butt where Loz had kicked him and vowing vengeance.

"Uh, 'Lena?" Reno muttered. "You can have the invite, yo. I don't want it anymore."

"There's only one thing to do, then," Rufus said calmly.

Rude cleared his throat. "You want me to turn off the fax machine?"

"No," Rufus replied with near-infinite patience. "We are going to this reunion. All of us."

"_All_, sir?" Tseng asked as the other Turks left to pack.

"I said 'all', didn't I?" Rufus grumbled, his patience now gone: the tea in Jenova's black box had gone cold and was starting to chill his nether parts.

Tseng nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir. Then you will be forwarding this invitation to those guys in the basement?"

"…_what_ guys in the basement?"


	11. 10

**10.**

"Is mine, you cretin!"

"I found it on the fax!"

Weiss the Immaculate stretched out his leg and tripped Azul and Rosso as they carried their battle too close to his barcalounger. "What are you two fighting over?"

"Is invitation to party!" Rosso stated proudly. "My first party, and this oaf thinks _he's_ going!"

"_You_ never check the fax machine," Azul muttered. "I found it, I should get to go!"

A slender mechanical wing-arm reached between the two and plucked the mangled fax out of their frantic grasp. Nero read the invitation in puzzled silence, then handed it to Weiss. "It came from Upstairs."

"Then it must be on the level," Weiss mused.

Nero rolled his eyes. "Of course, if it comes from Upstairs it's _always_ on the level," he muttered, raising his hand in the 'hail Weiss' salute, a gesture that could easily be mistaken for 'giving one the bird' if seen from an off angle.

"But Weiss," Rosso pouted, "_I_ vant to go!"

"You're doing it again," Weiss said with a grin.

Rosso stamped her foot, making her otaku-designed she-armor jiggle. "I do NOT haff aksent!"

Weiss waved her away. "I'm just messing with you. You're too damn serious, Rosso. Take a clue from Azul, here, he's –" Weiss paused to prod the blue-haired man firmly with his toe.

Thumb in mouth, Azul snorted and rolled over.

"Well, maybe not _that_ relaxed," Weiss admitted, "but still, you need to learn to go with the flow, Crimson. I think a party may be just what we all need."

"What about _them_, brother?" Nero whispered, gesturing at the masked figures guarding every doorway.

"If this is official from Upstairs," Weiss replied with a smirk, "they can't say no, can they?"

"Do you mean they're invited too, or they can't stop us from going?"

"Which one did you mean, when you asked me about it?"

Nero thought about this a moment. "More on the 'stop us from going' angle, I suppose."

"It's decided, then!"

Rosso looked up, her eyes betraying a deep and unfathomable befuddlement. "What are you two talking about?"

The brothers answered simultaneously:

"Restrictor has to let us go to this party," Nero said.

"Restrictor can be our designated drivers!" Weiss said.

"No, they can't!" Nero growled. "I didn't say we should invite them too, brother!"

"Yes, you did," Weiss told him.

"No, _you_ said that," Nero stated as the darkness began to twitch.

"I didn't say it, I just asked you what you meant –"

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Shelke interceded. "I just asked if they even _wanted_ to go, and they just said to bring them back some cake."

"Oh."

"Oh…"

"…so, it's decided, then?"


	12. 11

**11.**

"Now that the invitations have been sent, let's decorate!"

Kadaj huddled behind Loz who was trying to hide behind Yazuu, with little success. The littlest remnant peeked around his brothers for a glimpse of the crazed woman who was even now stapling festive streamers to the ceiling. "She's scaring me!"

Ms. Stewart's aide – one "Mrs. B" – herded the three brothers into the laundry room. "I'm so sorry about that," she whispered. "Miss Martha hasn't been quite right since the whole stock scandal, the poor dear. She's developed a bit of a wobble. Normally she wouldn't dream of faxing invitations at the last minute, but you've gotten her a little over-excited."

"Over-excited?" Yazuu echoed, his expression one of honest fear. "She hasn't slept in seven days!"

"That can't be good," Loz murmured.

"Oh, she'll be fine," the woman reassured them with a bright smile. "If it weren't you, it'd be the new Macy's ad campaign. It'll run its course, she'll throw a magnificent party, and then sleep for a week or so."

"Let me guess," Yazuu growled, "she has a special box in the basement for long-term hibernation."

"Now, don't you go poking around down there!" Mrs. B scolded, wagging her finger. "There are some things young men are just not meant to know!"

A resounding crash reminded them all why they were hiding out in the laundry room.

"Oh! Oh my! Excuse me, won't you?" Not waiting for an answer, Mrs. B scurried out, leaving the remnants on their own.

"This kind of shit didn't happen when _I_ was in charge," Kadaj snarled.

"Do you have a better plan?" Yazuu countered. "Because, if you do, this would be the opportune moment to tell us about it!"

"But we can't leave now!" Loz wailed. "We've already invited everybody!"

Yazuu turned to slap him, but Kadaj blocked his hand. "Wait. He's right."

"Go on," Yazuu prompted grudgingly.

Kadaj began to pace as he worked things through. "We made sure the President was invited –" (turn left at the washing machines) "– and we're pretty sure he has Mother –" (reverse direction at the wall of cleaning supplies) "– so if he comes, he'll have to –" (dodge the mop) "– either leave her unguarded, or –"

"Bring her with him!" Yazuu chimed in, thoroughly pleased with himself and rather proud of his little brother, too.

"Won't she be upset about us liking Martha's cooking better than hers?" Loz asked.

"It won't matter," Kadaj told him with a happy smile even as he struggled to get untangled from a rogue Swiffer-vac. "The reunion is the only thing she'll care about."

Ever the voice of bemused reason, Loz asked, "Um, but what if Shinra doesn't come?"

Yazuu grinned evilly and rubbed his gloved hands together, making them squeak. "Nobody, but nobody, turns down an invitation from Martha Stewart!"


	13. 12

**12.**

As the appointed day matured to mid-afternoon and the revelers began to arrive, a low shadow darted along the fenceline. It started off as nothing more than a metaphoric afterthought, but rapidly grew more solid until it took the form of a large, shaggy wolf who seemed quite interested in sniffing around the property's many trees and sculpted shrubberies.

The wolf advanced with caution, at once drawn inexorably toward a certain unbalanced blond and yet unwilling to commit, much like that buxom brunette with a fondness for leather gear. He listened intently to the many sounds around him: the clucking of chickens, the braying of donkeys, the low thrum of a hovering helicopter. It was the last of these that lent the most to his sense of impending disaster. He gazed up mournfully at the _Junon Rent-All_ chopper and wondered if the people on board might have any doggie treats. _Probably not_, he thought in his serene canine fashion. _If it's anything like the Shinra 'copter, the pilot's already eaten them._

He turned his attention toward the house, aglow with festive lights in defiance of the coming darkness. He watched as Nero and the other Deepground SOLDIERs packed themselves into the crowded foyer, and the darkness outside diminished somewhat. He shook his grizzled head and pondered the odd seating arrangements that must, no doubt, have been addressed at length for this shindig. _Oh, the things these humans do… Nothing for it but to stay and keep watch. I don't know what Cloud would do without me, but I wasn't exactly invited. Maybe they didn't have my address?_

"Hey you! There's no wolves on the guest list."

The wolf startled, barely resisting the urge to piddle. "Who said that?"

"I did." A tiny, black, bat-eared animal waddled toward him, its eyes huge and round and savage. "Name's Francesca. I don't believe I know yours."

Uncertainty rang through the wolf's mind. Did he have a name? Had he ever had a name? There were those who thought his name might be "Zack" or "Zax", while others believed he was just a figment of Cloud's overwrought imagination or a symbol of his worldly regrets or some such. Either way, the wolf couldn't think of a good answer to give this odd little beastlette, so he offered his best lopsided doggie smile and said, "Don't really have one, friend."

Francesca sniffed haughtily. "You belong to any of these people?"

"Er…" What to say? If he admitted he was with Cloud, then those in favor of the "Zack" theory would have more than enough ammuntion for some pretty kinky fan-fic, a sobering thought. But if he didn't…

"Is 'dis guy givin' you trouble, precious?" A bone-white, pop-eyed creature joined the first. "Youze wants me to rough him up?"

_I don't care if I AM sponsored by the Zack Fair International Fan Club – this is nuts!_

"…where did he go?"

**A/N: **Apologies to Ms. Martha's pups Francesca and Sharkey, and to French bulldogs everywhere, but I just couldn't resist.


	14. 13

**13.**

After scoping out the refreshments, Tifa rounded on their trio of young hosts. "What do you mean, there's no bar?!??"

Yazuu regarded the brash young woman with elegant disdain. "Mother didn't think it was proper."

Tifa blushed furiously, her hands balling into fists. "A girl can be a bartender and still be a lady, dammit! Who is she to judge what's proper? I make a good living, and I'm _not_ a hooker!"

Loz, Kadaj, Yazuu, and Cloud exchanged mildly concerned looks.

"Um, Tifa," Cloud ventured valiantly, "what are you talking about?"

Tifa glanced around as though just noticing the remnants and her own puzzled escort. "What did I say?"

"You said you're not a hooker," Loz replied helpfully.

"Damn right I'm not!" Tifa snarled. "Just because I wear a leather corset – are you looking for a fight, buddy? Because you just found one!"

Loz backed up a step.

Tifa bounded toward him, fists at the ready. "Come on, bring it, you pussy!"

"And I think that's why there's no bar," Cloud observed mildly as he picked Tifa up and slung her over his shoulder, still kicking. "Excuse us, I think someone needs a time-out."

"Loz is scared of girls!" Kadaj chanted in a sing-song voice as Cloud carried the rabid terrorist-cum-barkeep out of earshot.

"I am not!" Loz countered vehemently.

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

"Boys, please," Yazuu hissed as he stepped between the two. "This is hardly the time or place."

"But he said –"

Yazuu smiled. "Loz, _I_ know you're manly. That should be enough for your pride, hm? You can fight with her later, preferably in some ruins or other place that can be wrecked to your hearts' content. Tonight, we must be civilized."

Kadaj tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, Yazuu? This dog just whizzed on your foot."

Yazuu took a deep breath, then graced the big orange furball with a murderous glare. "If you weren't one of Mother's favorites, I swear I'd…"

The chow sat down and proceeded to wash its privates.

Before Yazuu could decide upon a proper course of action, Kadaj let out a soft cry and staggered back.

Loz darted to his side, all animosity forgotten. "What's wrong?"

Kadaj gripped his arms as though borrowing his elder brother's strength. "It's _Mother_! She's here!"

**A/N: **According to articles I found while learning all I could about Ms. Martha in a month, she has four chows, two French bulldogs, a cadre of Himalayan cats, some miniature donkeys, Friesian horses, chicks, ducks… I suspect it was Paw Paw who piddled on Yazuu's foot: of the bunch he seems rather possessive.


	15. 14

**14.**

Rufus Shinra made the rounds, greeting those few who didn't get out of his way in time. He let Tseng wheel him about, though it did make him feel a bit like an unwelcome dessert tray. _Odd feeling, that_, he mused, as dessert trays were almost universally good company.

"Found it." Tseng breathed the words over the microphone clipped to his right lower molar; his lips didn't move.

"Tseng," Rufus whispered, "I'm right here. You don't have to use the sub-audio."

"Habit, sir."

"Right…" Rufus studied the target, his eyes narrowing. "Can you get these people out of the way? Without shooting any of them," he added quickly as Tseng's right hand darted into his jacket.

"I'm on it, boss!" Reno said with a happy grin. He hurried up to the table and accosted the party-goers who were calmly loitering in hopes something interesting would happen. "Hey, good to see ya! The boss here would like to talk with you folks about rebuilding Shinra!"

"Gotta go."

"I gave at the office."

"Oh, it's time for my medicine…"

Rufus looked up at the redhead with something akin to admiration in his eyes. "Reno, I hate to say it, but I'm impressed!"

Reno shrugged. "It's a gift."

"Okay, Turks," Rufus stated in a stage whisper, "cover me."

Rude glanced toward the spare tablecloth. "It's certainly more festive than the blanket, but I'm not sure it will fit."

Elena poked the bald man in the ribs, then half-drew her pistol.

"Oh. Right."

With the Turks on guard and looking the other way, Rufus edged closer to the table. He raised the black box as Jenova had told him to do; the alien-infused tea within sloshed ominously. He opened the box. The smell was deafening.

Then, with steady hands, he held the box over the massive punch bowl and poured.

As the eldritch mixtures combined, the thick green potion began to roil and smoke. A vague stench of scorched lime sherbet filled the air.

In the huge cage by the kitchen, three canaries fell to the bottom and did not stir.

Rufus held his breath, waiting for some sign that Jenova was pleased, and waiting for the fumes to dissipate to safe levels.

::Damn, that tingles!::

"I'm done now," Rufus hissed, tossing the box into the recycle bin. "You're on your own."

::Now…have some punch?::

"Fuck you!" Rufus backed up his chair, then addressed the Turks. "Okay, you four. You're my last Turks, the last and the best." He glanced at Elena. "Well, the last, anyway. Under no circumstances are you to drink that punch!"

Rude stepped in behind the wheelchair and began pushing Rufus back to the main room. Elena flanked them, not quite sure whether she had been dissed or not.

Behind them, a slap rang out.

"Ouch! What did you do that for, yo?"

"You were about to stick your finger in the punch," Tseng replied coolly. "Bad idea."

"But –"

"No means no, even for you."

"Aw, man!"

"Don't 'aw, man' me! If I catch you within ten feet of that bowl, I'll tell Rude you've been putting Enzyte in his coffee."

Reno paled. "You wouldn't!"

Tseng shrugged. "Don't tempt fate."

Defeated, Reno let Tseng escort him out of the buffet room.

Behind them, the punch began to glow.


	16. 15

**15.**

"It's so good to have you here, Mr. Shinra. What are you president of, exactly?"

Rufus' mind flashed back over the past five minutes, trying to decipher how he had come to this impasse. One moment he'd been wheeling merrily toward the door and freedom, and the next he'd found himself cornered by Martha Stewart. "I run my own power company," he replied cautiously, unwilling to give away too much information this early in the scheme of things.

"How delightful!" Martha's eyes seemed to sparkle as though lit from within. "Folks refer to my modest holdings as an empire, but I have Empress Wu here," she reached down to ruffle the regal chow's fur while Ms. Wu snarfed down another cocktail weiner, "so I suppose that would make me a humble vizier – unless she's really just a puppet ruler, which would then make me something like an overlord, wouldn't it?"

Tseng's electronically distorted voice sounded in Rufus' ear. "Sir, she seems to be wearing about five nicotine patches…"

::Give her to me!::

"Did you say something?" Martha asked, looking around.

Empress Wu snarled and sped off like a tangerine comet.

::How about some punch?::

"You know, I have a wonderful idea," Martha enthused, aiming for the buffet. "How about some punch?"

"No!" Rufus squeaked, struggling to turn his chair through a roadblock of puzzled Turks. "I, er, don't like punch!"

"That's silly! Who doesn't love a nice refreshing cup of sparkling lime punch?"

Rufus revved the motor and headed her off with a screech of burning rubber. "I prefer tea," he blurted, desperate to redirect.

::Hypocrite.::

"Shut up!"

"What?"

"Nothing!" Rufus looked around frantically, searching for an avenue of escape. His gaze fell upon the punch bowl and lingered a heartbeat too long.

A slender, greasy-looking tentacle oozed through the thick fog that clung to the bowl like a bad premonition. An eye appeared at the end of the tentacle and winked at him.

"Holy Odin!" Rufus shouted, throwing the chair into reverse.

Even as Martha turned to look, the tentacle sank back into the bowl, leaving the green foam virtually undisturbed.

"Well," Martha said with a gracious smile, "though I am quite proud of my punch, I wouldn't dream of making a guest feel awkward. But why didn't you just tell me you were phobic?"

Rufus slumped down in the chair, badly in need of a cigarette – _or a bottle of whiskey – or Reno, on his knees with his hands tied behind his back..._

"Sir?"

"What!!" Rufus startled, nearly falling out of the wheelchair.

Tseng handed him a cell phone. "It's Tuesti, sir. The preparations are in place."

Preparations? Rufus struggled to clear his mind enough to remember all the plots he had in the works at the moment. He raised the phone and said, "Reeve. WRO ready to move to the next level?"

"Actually, I've just bought as much stock in Martha Stewart Enterprises as is legally allowed. We're ready for phase two, if you're still interested."

A smile crept across Rufus Shinra's face. "Thank you, Reeve. Good work."

To their hostess, Rufus purred, "Ms. Stewart, I have a business proposal you may find interesting…"


	17. 16

**16.**

"I _know_ she's here! Why can't I find her?" Kadaj stormed from room to room, his face a mask of grim determination.

Loz trotted along in his wake. The elder brother was doing his best to keep an eye on the youngest, but without Yazuu close by, Loz was beginning to worry that the brat might give him the slip. "Hey, Kadaj? You know, you never could get a fix on Mother; why do you think you'll be able to find her now?"

Kadaj skidded to a halt in the doorway beside the canary cage and whirled to face his brother. "Because. That's why." He cast about as though listening, then sprinted for the stairs.

Loz paused a moment, considering the large bowl of green punch that loomed invitingly on the buffet table. With a scowl he realized just how far ahead of him Kadaj must be by now; he made a mental note to get something to drink on their next lap before hurrying after the little dynamo.

He nodded toward Yazuu as he passed at a dead run, thankful that the pretty gunslinger wasn't quite close enough to trip him.

For his part, Yazuu pointed up the stairs and hooked his thumb to the left, signaling the last known whereabouts of their wayward sibling. He watched Loz speed away on his task, while mentally he counted up the current score and found Kadaj to be in the lead by about two and a half laps.

"Mr. Shinra, I must say it's a pleasure doing business with you!"

Yazuu frowned. Was that their new mother's voice? What was she doing with the human laundry pile? He edged along the wall until he caught a glimpse of the speaker.

Martha Stewart shook hands with Rufus Shinra, her whole demeanor one of triumph.

"The pleasure is mine," Shinra murmured, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it.

"Oh, you dog!" Martha simpered, reclaiming her hand with a regal little wave.

"Shinra's all about the dogs," he replied with an audible smirk.

Yazuu couldn't stand it. He detached himself from the wall and strode toward the pair. "Mother dear," he called firmly. "Why are you talking with this purveyor of dastardly foibles?"

"Actually, he's more of a connoisseur," Rude corrected mildly.

Martha put an arm around Yazuu's shoulders, blithly ignoring his personal bubble. "Dear, I've just ensured your college fund!"

Yazuu's head tilted to the side like a blond working on a math problem. "…what?"

"I'm selling the company to this bright young man here," Martha stated. "It just hasn't been the same since…well, the charm is gone. I'm going to retire and raise horses. And chickens. And ducks. And cats. The headache of running this massive consumer-driven conglomerate now rests on younger shoulders: I'm tired of being 'Ms. Perfect' all the damn time. And they _still_ won't tell me if shooting rock salt at the paparazzi goes against my probabtion."

Stunned beyond his capacity for words, Yazuu could only stare at this magnificent, weary, delusional woman and compare her to their real mother. Surely Jenova wouldn't have sold out to Shinra – or was that how this whole thing really started?

Rufus Shinra's voice cut in on his musings. "Don't worry about a thing, Martha. I've done this lots of times. Your name will continue to grace fine households everywhere, on pots and pans, toothbrush holders, shower curtains, and megastore receipts. I think the future looks incredibly bright for ShinWart!"

Yazuu turned away, disconsolate and utterly betrayed. How could she? Everything that had brought him to her doorstep, handed over to that little blond despot – unthinkable! What should he do now? Hold fast to his decision, in spite of this turn of events? Or follow Kadaj on another round of Let's Find Mother?

_I could just say 'bugger the whole thing' and go start a goth band…_

Yazuu heaved a sigh and headed upstairs. He'd decide his course of action after seeing whether or not Kadaj had had any luck. Surely Jenova wouldn't be upset with him for wanting this thing with Martha Stewart to work out, though he suspected his little brother's payback wedgie would do jack all for his peace of mind.

Unheard by the forlorn remnant, Rufus called Reeve and told him, "That's right. Dump the lot of it. Or buy more – whatever you're supposed to do in a situation like this."

Unseen by that same remnant, the punchbowl trembled, then stood still as a shadowy figure slunk over and dipped a cup into the green.


	18. 17

**17.**

Vincent Valentine regarded the small crystal punch cup with a wary yet thirsty eye. Normally he wouldn't indulge, but this evening found him in need of refreshment: the journey here had been long and difficult, made more so by construction on the overpass. He'd followed Cloud and Tifa after figuring out that Kadaj and his droogs must have been behind this hair-brained reunion, and it didn't please him to learn that he was right.

In fact it never pleased him, and he was usually right.

"You're not gonna drink that, are ya?" The question came through without need for words as Galian Beast spoke on a more instinctual level, rather like a supersized purple Pekingese.

"It does seem rather out of place," Vincent observed, studying the foamy concoction. "One would think they'd have set up a bar…"

"Dude, I wouldn't drink that if I were you," gurgled Hellmasker. "In fact, why don't you stab yourself in the leg, and then I _would_ be you, and I wouldn't drink that."

"Oh, great," moaned Galian Beast. "I'm in agreement with the nutcase."

Ignoring them both, Vincent raised the cup and drained it in one go.

His pallid features contorted; he struggled not to spit the stuff back into the cup. "Damn, that shit's nasty!"

The Jenova cells flowed down Vincent's throat, held captive in their frothy lime delivery gel much like frog eggs caught in a riptide. They would have to wait to disperse: the mutated punch would not be quick to break down, but Jenova had always been patient.

As the odd and indecipherable aftertaste hit, a vague expression of "uh oh" flitted across Vincent's face.

"Stand back, kiddies. _I'll_ handle this." Chaos locked the other Vincent-squatters in their existential crates, then displaced his host with all the delicacy of Barret Wallace playing full-contact badminton.

Chaos focused inward, concentrating his substantial life energy on the contents of Vincent's gut. He sensed the Other biding its time as the thick lime sherbet-based beverage began to do battle with Vincent's chronically-excessive stomach acid. _Damn fool needs to learn how to relax or he'll give himself an ulcer,_ Chaos noted.

How best to proceed? Regurgitation was out of the question: the stuff would activate on the way up, a very nasty scenario. Much simpler to absorb the alien matter into himself, purify it through the protomateria, and convert it into simple energy. The gaseous byproduct would no doubt stink to high heaven, but that would be a small price to pay.

Chaos braced himself, then tucked in with all the gusto of a five-year-old on a plate of Brussels sprouts.

The Jenova cells in Vincent's stomach sensed something had gone very wrong.

The Jenova cells in the punch bowl pretended to be invisible lest this unpredictable force decide to go for seconds.

Upstairs, Kadaj hesitated, certain he'd heard something.

Chaos muffled a belch and made a face. He cast about, desperate for something to take the taste away. _What, this human doesn't believe in booze?_

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his sense of smell. Like a shark honing in on blood, he made his way to a rather large, locked pantry. Claws made short work of the door; inside, Chaos found an assortment of hard liquor, pony kegs, and a wine rack. He surveyed the labels, selected a nice Chianti, and headed out to the yard to congratulate himself on a job well done.

As though drawn to Chaos by the bonds of fate, yet having forgetten to set his watch to the correct time, Weiss came into the buffet room several minutes after Chaos had left. He noticed the shattered pantry door and moved cautiously to investigate.

"Woot! It's Miller time!"

Behind him, Nero considered his options. Beer? Wine? Something harder? He paused at the wrecked pantry door and turned back, his attention caught by the intriguing green glow emanating from the punch bowl…


	19. 18

**18.**

"Well, now that these two are here, maybe I could just –"

Denzel jumped up. "No! Don't go! We're just getting to the good stuff!"

Shelke sighed. "Kid, I keep telling you, I only _look_ like I'm ten. This really isn't my thing."

Denzel clutched the controller to his little chest. "But, everyone loves _Kingdom Hearts_!"

"Hey, are you coming back or what? I wanna see what's next!" Loz shouted.

"Be right there!" Denzel turned back toward Shelke. "Look, it's really cooler than you think. And I'm really good at it. Come on, hang out with us some more?"

"Loz, take his game control thingamajiggy and start playing before I get bored," Kadaj muttered.

Shelke considered her options, then asked, "Tell you what, how about you let _me_ play and _you_ watch?"

Taken aback, Denzel blinked at her. "Uh, okay?"

Shelke accepted the controller, then unhooked it from the console. She took a set of goggles from her belt, ran the controller jack to a port on the left earpiece, unspooled a narrow cable from the right earpiece, and plugged that into the Playstation. Then she settled down in front of the television and put the goggles on.

Denzel, Loz, and Kadaj all stared at the screen as Sora, Donald, and Goofy began defying not only the laws of physics but those of space-time as well, along with a few local ordinances. The music track condensed into a low, steady hum before rising steadily in pitch until it sounded like a swarm of hornets. Once-familiar faces became unrecognizable blobs of color as worlds blurred past, the Gummi ship a streak across the dizzying montage.

Loz leaned over the wastebasket and was thoroughly, noisily motionsick.

In bare moments it was over. Shelke removed her goggles, unhooked the wires, and handed Denzel his controller back with a smile. "See? Wasn't that better?"

Denzel stared at the screen, his mouth hanging open as his young mind struggled to recall the numerous tricks and cheats to no avail.

"I wanna try!" Kadaj stated, reaching for the controller.

"No!" Denzel cried, cradling his Playstation. "It's not made for this kind of abuse!"

Kadaj snorted derisively. "Weener."

As the boys began fighting over the video game, Shelke made her getaway. She edged past the approaching Yazuu and slunk down the stairs in search of her comrades. _Maybe they're having a crappy time too and I can talk them into leaving early…_

She caught up with Rosso in the main hall. The woman stumbled past, pausing every few steps to whirl around and snarl at the cats who were intent on playing with her butt-cape. The snarling had apparently become ineffective, as two Himalayans had made their beds on her avant-garde train. When Shelke asked if she were ready to go, Rosso shot the cats another dirty look and said it couldn't be too soon.

Azul would be more difficult. Shelke found him in the back yard, shifted into beast form and playing 'Tag!' with three large Chows and a miniature donkey.

"If it's okay with Weiss," Azul said after changing back to his more-or-less human shape, "Miss Martha wants to keep me. She said she's never seen one of me before, and the food's great!" He turned toward the dogs and told them, "Hang on, guys, I'll be right back."

Shelke shook her head. "Didn't you hear? She's been bought out by Shinra."

Azul turned his stricken gaze heavenward. "NOOOOOO!!!!!11!1!!"

Shelke left him to recover his dignity – or at least his pants – and ventured back into the house. She spotted a familiar lack of light by the buffet table and hurried to intercept.

Nero, meanwhile, had searched through the room and finally emerged triumphant with a long straw clutched in his fist. He stuffed one end up under his mouthguard, then lowered the business end into a punch-filled Dixie cup.

::YESSSSS!!!::

::…::

::NOOOOO!!1!!111!!::

The darkness shuddered and flexed, pulsing outward in a self-satisfied ripple.

Upstairs, Kadaj flinched and cried out, one hand rising to his temple.

Denzel took the opportunity to snatch his Playstation back and scamper out of the room.

Before Loz or the recently-arrived Yazuu could say anything, Kadaj whispered, "It was as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced."

"Are you sure it's not just a migraine?" Loz muttered, rubbing at his own head. "That game thing was messed up…"

Kadaj grabbed him by the front of his jacket and hauled him down to eye level. "Something happened to Mother!"

Yazuu cleared his throat. "About that…"


	20. 19

**19.**

Even Shelke had to admit that the party wasn't so bad now that someone had ripped open the liquor cabinet.

Weiss played bartender until Tifa turned up and chased him out of the room with a pastel nylon spatula. The well-equipped barmaid set up shop next to the buffet table, charging $2 a drink and not checking proof of age – a good thing, since Shelke didn't have a driver's license.

Cloud kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. With Shinra and the Turks present and those three leatherette delinquents calling the shots, Cloud didn't feel particularly at ease. He nursed a lingering suspicion that someone here was up to something, and it probably wasn't "Secret Santa".

Not wanting to lose his edge, and not really knowing what effect strong liquor might have on his delicate constitution, he checked out the buffet table. Silvery urns full of coffee graced one end, while at the other a large crystal punch bowl offered up a vista of fluffy green. _Ah, yes,_ thought Cloud. _7-Up and lime sherbet punch, the bane of holiday gatherings everywhere. At least there doesn't seem to be any fruitcake…_ He bypassed the crystal cups and selected a fresh paper cup instead so he could have the pleasure of folding the little paper handles out: a feat that always made him feel a little more confident.

He filled the cup with punch, unaware of the sinister presence that had merged with the beverage.

He raised the cup to his lips.

The room vanished, replaced with an endless vista of flowers; a warm presence embraced him from behind.

As ample boobs squished against his back, Cloud jumped half out of his skin. "Dammit, Aerith, you've got to stop sneaking up on me like that! You've got one hell of an unfair advantage!"

Gentle giggles tickled his ear. "Dilly dally, shilly shally!"

Cloud heaved a disgusted sigh. "You're never going to let her live that down, are you?"

"Nope!"

Cloud tried to turn, but Aerith reached up and grabbed him by the nose.

"Gyaaa! Leggo by doze!"

"No peeking!" Aerith kissed him on the side of his neck, let go of his nose, and whispered, "Get back to your party, Cloud. Have fun!"

As reality jolted back around him, Cloud lurched forward, his balance thrown off by Aerith's fangirling. He caught himself before running into anyone, but his drink wasn't so lucky: it tipped down the front of his shirt in a thick and sticky mess.

"Ah, hell, Aerith" Cloud muttered under his breath as he discarded the cup he'd so painstakingly folded the handles out on. "If you wanted me to get a beer, you should have just said so."

"Cloud? You okay?" Tifa looked up at him with concern. It usually wasn't a good sign when Cloud talked to people Tifa couldn't see.

"Yeah. I need to clean this up, I'll be right back." Cloud hurried out of the room and up the stairs, vaguely recalling the location of the bathroom. He hauled the door open –

– and found himself face to face with a mostly naked Vincent.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Cloud blushed darker than the other man's raggedy cape. "I didn't know you were –"

"No, no," Vincent replied quickly as he struggled to cover his modesty. "It's not what it looks like."

_It looks like about seven inches…_Cloud shook his head to clear out the thought before it could leave a lasting impression. "So, what's going on?"

Vincent leaned against the wall, his expression one of unhappy resignation. "Had a bit of a Chaos moment. He never puts things back where he finds them. Now I'm stuck trying to safety-pin my pants back together, among other things."

"…oh." Cloud fidgeted, wondering what he should do.

"What's that on your shirt, a hairball?"

Cloud looked down, remembered why he'd barged into the bathroom. "Punch. Spilled it."

"Nasty stuff. I wouldn't –" Vincent turned to the side as though engaged in another conversation. In a mocking sing-song voice much at odds with his usual monotone he said, "I wouldn't drink that if _I_ were you, yeah, yeah, I know you wouldn't! We've established that you were right and I was wrong, put it to rest, already!"

Cloud backed up a step. "I'll just find the laundry room, then…"

Vincent turned back toward him and beckoned with his gauntletless hand. "Tell you what. You help me, I'll help you. Deal?"

Unable to resist a plea for help, yet uncertain whether he had the necessary skills to finally make a difference, Cloud nodded. "What do you want me to do?"


	21. 20

**20.**

Whistling a happy tune, Yuffie Kisaragi crammed one more materia-bright Christmas tree ornament into her Hello, Kitty handbag. She made another turn around the tree, then paused as familiar voices drifted to her ear. Using her ninja-refined senses, she tuned in on the sound and followed it to the upstairs bathroom.

"Tell you what. You help me, I'll help you. Deal?"

"What do you want me to do?"

_Is that Cloud? It sure sounds like Cloud!_ Yuffie crouched down and pressed her ear to the keyhole.

"First, take your shirt off."

_Vincent? What's he doing in there with Cloud?_

A pause, followed by the rustling of cloth.

"Now, come over here and hold this for me. Not so tight," Vincent murmured. "Gently."

"Better?"

"Much. Now, reach between and tug."

"Like this?"

Vincent made a low sound halfway between a growl and a moan. "Mmmmhmm! Hold it right there!"

"Damn, Vincent, this is hard!"

Yuffie bit back a startled squeak.

"I know. I appreciate the help; it's not something I prefer to do alone but I usually have no choice."

"Chaos shouldn't leave you like this," Cloud chided.

"He can't help it. It's just his nature. Okay, it's almost there…"

Yuffie tried peeking throught the keyhole, but all she could see was Cloud's back.

Whatever happened next, happened quietly. The next thing Yuffie heard was Vincent's voice sounding relieved: "Thank you. Looks like I owe you one."

"Good luck getting _this_ off," Cloud growled. "It's had time to get really hard."

"You've never had this happen before?"

"Well, usually Tifa's there to take care of things for me," Cloud admitted. "She's having a good time; I didn't want to bother her."

"I'm sure she's better at it than I am, but I'll give you what I can."

"I appreciate that, Vincent. I really do."

Yuffie couldn't take any more. She thrust the door open and, in true ninja fashion, announced her presence with a loud, "DON'T DO IT, CLOUD! It would break Tifa's heart!"

At the vanity, Cloud and Vincent both turned to look at her in utter incomprehension, the soiled shirt grasped between them.

Yuffie stared, her mouth hanging open as her eyes roved across both decently-covered men. Her gaze lingered at Vincent's leather-clad crotch a few beats longer than strictly necessary, but, under the circumstances, no one noticed.

"What are you talking about?" Vincent asked, scowling.

"Um…uh…oh, look! A kitty cat!" She turned and sprinted after the startled animal, leaving Cloud and Vincent to ponder the entire brief conversation.

"Strange girl," Vincent muttered.

"You don't know the half of it."


	22. 21

**21.**

Kadaj watched their guests through a haze of misery. First, Yazuu had thrown over their real Mother for this Martha person, who in turn threw them all over for a merger with Shinra. Second, Kadaj had been getting weird vibes for the past few hours, hints that Mother was somehow nearby – and yet he was no closer to finding her than learning how to juggle. And, as if all that weren't enough, he really had no idea what this whole "Christmas" thing was about, only that there were presents under the big dead tree and none of them had his name on it.

He shuffled aimlessly, not avoiding his brothers but not seeking them out, either. Yazuu, in an attempt to make the best of the situation, was plotting various ways to dispose of Rufus Shinra and restore Martha Stewart's sovereignty before the press found out. So far, he'd filled up a pad of post-it notes with details on the weaknesses of the Turks, most of which centered around Reno.

Loz, meanwhile, had retired to the back yard with a frisbee, three dogs, and Azul.

Kadaj dodged a handful of people wandering out of the kitchenette, then ducked inside to see what the attraction was. The buffet table looked like a war zone: empty coffee urns lolled on their sides, their usefulness at an end; crumb-crusted cookie trays lay as though in shock beneath the festive lights; shards of ribbon candy crunched underfoot like shop windows after a riot. Only the punch bowl seemed unaffected, its green cargo advertising by its mere existence that it was thoroughly unpalatable.

"You're all just remnants, too," Kadaj whispered, picking up a particularly wicked looking and diamond-sharp sliver of peppermint. He gnashed his teeth against a surge of emotion, unwilling to show weakness no matter how bad it hurt. His resolve was no match for the night's events, as betrayal after betrayal replayed itself in his childlike mind. He clutched at the buffet table for balance and struggled to hold back the tears. "All I wanted, all I _ever_ wanted, was to meet our big brother!"

One rogue tear slipped past his defenses and fell into the punch bowl.

* * * * *

Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary defines "meet" as follows:

_transitive verb_ (with a subject, as in "I want to _meet_ my big brother!")

1: a: to come into the presence of – FIND; b: to come together with, especially at a particular time or place; c: to come into contact or conjunction with – JOIN; d: to appear to the perception of

2: to encounter as antagonist or foe – OPPOSE

3: to enter into conference, argument, or personal dealings with

4: to conform to, especially with exactitude and precision

5: to pay fully – SETTLE

6: to cope with

7: to provide for

8: to become acquainted with

9: ENCOUNTER, EXPERIENCE

10: to receive or greet in an official capacity

_intransitive verb_

1: a: to come face-to-face; b: to come together for a common purpose – ASSEMBLE; c: to come together as contestants, opponents, or enemies

2: to form a junction or confluence

3: to occur together

There are other variations, but these are the most relevant to our story. Note how "become acquainted" and "come face-to-face" are quite far down on the list.

Kadaj has never read Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary.

Carry on.

* * * * *

"It's never gonna happen," Kadaj murmured in resignation. He grabbed a handful of tasteful, holly-patterned napkins and wiped his nose.

A single crystal cup glimmered beside the punch bowl. The rest of the set had gone missing, with more than one most likely residing in Ms. Kisaragi's Hello, Kitty handbag. The paper cups, too, were gone, as though they had all taken flight on their little wing-like fold-out handles. Only this one cup remained, waiting to be filled.

Kadaj sighed and picked up the cup, marveling at its delicate, deep-cut designs. He had never seen anything so sparkly besides materia; for a moment he was tempted to emulate a certain young ninja and pocket the thing, but then he remembered: he didn't have any pockets.

Careful not to get any punch on his leathers, he dipped the cup into the ominous green, then drank.


	23. 22

**22.**

Yazuu regarded his handiwork with a sinister smile. He'd inspected every strand of Christmas lights in the house until he found one sporting tell-tale tooth marks: feline, by the look of them. Almost deep enough to penetrate the plastic coating and reach the wires within. Then, using his most delicate touch, he'd draped the strand across the bare metal portions of Rufus Shinra's wheelchair, making sure the worst segment lay just in front of the rear wheel. _That should put an end to his evil deeds once and for all! Now to find an extension cord…_

A flicker of motion distracted him from his final arrangements. A large shadow had passed in front of the kitchen window, backlit in a flare of silver.

Frowning, Yazuu abandoned his project and hurried to get a better look.

The dark figure turned a corner, long silver hair trailing behind like a comet.

Yazuu broke into a trot. As he reached the hallway, he ran headlong into Kadaj.

"Gyaaa! You trying to kill me?" Kadaj growled, regaining his balance with effort.

Yazuu searched the brightly-lit hall beyond him. "Did someone just come by here?"

"No, I was just coming back from the kitchen. I didn't see anyone."

"You're sure?" Yazuu asked, openly puzzled. "You didn't pass a tall man with long silver hair?"

Kadaj regarded his brother with mild concern. "_I'm_ supposed to be the delusional one. Maybe you should eat something other than sugar?"

"Maybe," Yazuu conceded. He had to admit, he'd been feeling rather light-headed ever since deciding on a plan to off Rufus Shinra. He sighed and followed Kadaj back toward the kitchen. "Hey, Kadaj, do you know if there's any –" He'd been about to say "cheese left?" when he realized his little brother was nowhere in sight. "That's odd…"

"Hey, Yazuu?" Loz intercepted him by the buffet table. "Have you seen Kadaj?"

"I…thought I did," Yazuu hedged, looking around with a sense of deep misgiving.

"It's weird, I was just going to ask if he wanted to come play outside, but he left the room just as I came in. And you know what's even weirder? I thought I saw –"

"A tall figure with long silver hair?" Yazuu asked blandly.

Loz blinked at him. "Yeah! What's that about?"

"I don't know, Loz. But I think we'd better find out."

From the main room, a sudden cry of "Son of a bitch!" brought the two remnants out of the kitchenette at a run. Yazuu changed direction with graceful ease as he realized the cry had nothing to do with a mysterious figure and everything to do with an attempted murder-by-electrocution. Being in a generous mood, he hauled Loz along with him as he veered sharply toward the stairs. Yazuu glanced up –

The tall shadow glided up the last few steps and disappeared down the second floor hall, possibly aiming for the bathroom.

"Come on!" Yazuu shouted, sprinting up the steps three at a time.

But when he and Loz arrived, there was no sign of the stranger.

"What are you doing?"

Yazuu startled and nearly drew his gun before recognition set in. "Kadaj?!? What are you doing up here?"

"I asked you first," the youngest brother replied, sticking his tongue out.

Yazuu glared down at him, tossed his hair, then said, "All right. Now, don't get your hopes up, but I've been seeing someone who looks like Sephiroth."

Kadaj frowned, gave Loz a critical once-over, then said, "I know you're seeing Loz, but I don't think he looks that much like him."

Yazuu smacked himself in the face, counted to five, and said in a forcibly calm voice, "I mean I've been catching sight of a tall, dark figure with long silver hair, but I can't seem to get close enough to make sure. Kadaj, I think he's here."

Loz gripped Yazuu's arm in excitement. "He's here? Santa's _here_?"

Yazuu turned and, this time, smacked Loz in the face. "No. Not Santa, you two-year-old."

"Sephiroth." Kadaj breathed the name like a prayer, his eyes a-glow with reverence. "I'm gonna find him!"

Loz reached out to stop him, but barely managed to touch Kadaj with his fingertips before the little remnant was gone at a run. "Damn! Yazuu, do you think we should –" His voice cut out, and he stared open-mouthed at his hand.

"Do I think we should what?" Yazuu grumbled, turning to look at what held his brother's rapt attention.

Snagged on Loz' glove, a meter-long silver hair fluttered in their little brother's wake.


	24. 23

**23.**

"Something's not right." Cloud scanned the room. He dismissed the normal sights of Yuffie helping herself to anything shiny, Reno throwing sharpened pencils into the ceiling tiles, and Cait Sith humping a Chow behind the tree: all reassuring, everyday activities not matching the ominous tremor Cloud almost recognized.

"You can say that again! Mr. Immaculate over there stiffed me on my tip!" Tifa muttered, wadding up a handful of cash and stuffing it in her bustier.

Cloud ignored her, tilting his head as though listening to another voice. Then he realized: the voice was inside his mind.

And it was singing.

"_I can see me now on Christmas morning,  
creeping down the stairs…"  
_

Cloud twitched.

"_Oh what joy and what surprise  
when I open up my eyes  
to see a hippo hero standing there…"_

He tried shaking his head, to no avail. The low, melodious, uniquely Machiavellian voice continued with its harmonious mockery as though Cloud had a radio receiver implanted in his gray matter. _Then again, there's no telling what Hojo did while I was unconscious…nope,notgonnathinkaboutit._

"Cloud? You okay?" Tifa was giving him another of Those Looks. "Is Aerith messing with you again?"

"I wish!"

Tifa stared at him half a second before balling up her fist and decking him. "You two-timing bastard!"

"What? What did I do?" Cloud wailed, rubbing at his jaw with one hand and his ass with the other.

"You just tell Little Miss Flowershop that I'm a very territorial woman, and you're in _my_ home now!"

"Actually, we're in Martha Stewart's home," Cloud muttered as he hauled himself back to standing. "Tifa, you're the one who brought her up. What I was trying to tell you is, it's not Aerith. It's Sephiroth."

Tifa looked stricken. "Oh, Cloud…I know how to stand up to another woman! How the _hell_ can I compete with _that_?"

Cloud closed his eyes and imagined Aerith popping him out of reality for a little while. Cautiously he opened his eyes – no such luck. "Tifa…"

"No. Don't say it." Tifa held up her hand in a warding gesture. "I've read the slash and the yaoi and the, what do they call it, stop-my-butt-hurts? The internet's full of it. About you. And him. And several other men. Boys. Chocobos. It's okay, I've had my suspicions for some time now."

Cloud scowled at her. "You're right, it _is_ kind of telling that even after months of your psycho-bitchness, I _still_ want to put your feet over my shoulders and pound you into the mattress."

"Don't make fun of me!" Tifa snarled, crouching in a fighting stance. "Come on, pretty boy – bring it!"

"Ahem."

Tifa and Cloud both startled as a crimson apparition ghosted in between them. Then they realized it was just Vincent doing that "spooky" thing and went back into combat mode.

"I think that would be unwise," Vincent murmured. Hidden as they were behind the folds of the cloak, his lips may or may not have actually moved.

Her voice breaking with sorrow, Tifa said, "Vincent, I just found out that Cloud has been cheating on me, with a man."

Vincent's eyes narrowed, and he glared at Cloud. His words, though, were for Tifa: "What did Yuffie tell you?"

"What? Nothing," Tifa answered. "Why? What's going on?"

"Nothing," Cloud and Vincent replied in unison.

"You know how Yuffie is," Vincent muttered.

Tifa glowered at him, the fires of paranoia neatly rekindled. "She's actually a very reliable source. What might she have to tell me, _Vincent_? You know, I've seen this fan art of you and –"

"Hey, look!" Cloud blurted. "Someone just tried to kill Rufus!" He took the golden opportunity and bolted, leaving Vincent alone in Tifa's wrath.

"You know, I used to be a Turk," Vincent growled. "I should check on that…" Before Tifa could take a swing at him, he engaged his Cloak Warp Drive and flowed across the room via the wainscoting.

Curious herself, and weighing the benefits of killing Cloud and Vincent against the possibility of a fangirl's wet dream come true, Tifa followed them to the scene of the attempted crime.

She did not notice the tall dark figure looking down from the second floor railing.

**A/N:** It's a real song. And I just discovered that the child singer was actually from right near my hometown. Explains a lot, really…


	25. 24

**24.**

"No, no, I'm all right," Rufus told his outraged entourage. "Just a little tangled up in some lights…which happen to be smoking."

"Sir, I believe this may have been intentional," Tseng stated, eyeing the crowd darkly. "The strand seems to have been placed across the chair's battery terminals…"

Rufus waved his hand dismissively. "Tseng, who would want to kill _me_?"

Several seconds passed before Tseng asked, "Wasn't that a rhetorical question, sir?"

"What I want to know," Elena muttered, "is who plugged it in?"

Reno muffled a cough. "Anyone want some punch?"

"Reno!" Rufus snarled. "Enough with the punch, already!"

"Excuse me."

Rufus turned toward the speaker. "Yes, Ms. Stewart?"

Behind Rufus, Reno poked Tseng in the side, pointed at the scorched wall socket, and made an "oopsie!" gesture.

Tseng, in turn, pantomimed signing a paycheck and then ripping it in half.

"I'm so sorry," Martha said, "but I think that someone is trying to kill me, and that makes you a target, too."

Rufus tried to parse the statement, failed. "Come again?"

Martha Stewart sighed. "You see, I'm so loved by so many people all over the world, that I've become like a goddess to them. And you know what they say about believers destroying their deity before the deity can destroy them." She shrugged and let out a sad little laugh. "It's the cycle of things. I'd just hoped you might be spared."

Rufus put the chair in reverse and subtly hit the power.

The battery farted sulfurously; the chair did not move.

"Never fear, Ms. Stewart," Rufus stated gamely, "I do have my own elite bodyguards. Though I don't think they're enough to safeguard your holy self."

Tseng bristled, but Elena leaned up to whisper in his ear. His flat affect broke a moment as he arrived on the same page.

"That's all right," Martha said. "I have Mrs. B."

"Good, good…" Rufus signaled to Rude, who stepped in behind the chair. "It's been a lovely evening, I really wish I could stay…"

"Oh, but the Presidential Suite is waiting for you!"

Rufus glanced back at Tseng, who only shrugged. He tried Rude, though he could never be sure if he'd managed to make eye contact with the man; needless to say, his lack of comment didn't mean much. He turned toward Elena, but the girl seemed in awe of Martha's mad hostess skillz.

Reaching his last hope, Rufus looked over at Reno.

"What the fuck was that?!??" shouted the redhead, pointing up the stairs.

"Nice!" Rufus murmured, nodding his approval.

"No, really!" Reno exclaimed fervently. "What the _fuck_ was that? It looked like –"

"It couldn't be!"

"I saw it too!"

"Santa?!??"

Reno smacked his partner's shiny noggin. "Don't you know _he's_ invisible?"

"Turks! Report!" Rufus snarled, losing patience and a little of his nerve. Ever since those goings-on back before Meteor he'd had little love for ghost stories, and this was starting to look like one of those.

"Sir." Tseng snapped to attention, momentarily distracting Rufus from his freakout. "It was either the Ghost of Christmas Future, or –"

"SEPHIROTH!" Cloud bellowed, charging toward the stairs. Midway there he remembered he'd left his sword(s) with his motorcycle. He paused to rethink his strategy.

"Here, use this." Vincent handed him a fireplace poker and the ash shovel.

Cloud contemplated the rustic wrought iron implements, debated heating them to a cherry glow, then decided that heroes still didn't resort to such gruesome tactics. _Would have been a nice touch, though…_

Brandishing the poker and shovel as best he could, Cloud finished his charge, arriving at the second floor only to find no sign of his nemesis. He cast about, checking the doors and barging into the rooms that were unlocked, but he only succeeded in catching Yuffie playing dress-up with one of the cats. "Did you see anyone up here?" he asked frantically.

"Just those three biker boys," Yuffie replied happily. "I think they're playing Hide And Seek or something."

"Watch yourself," he warned. "I think Sephiroth's back."

"Great," Yuffie muttered, rolling her eyes. "Well, it's been nice knowing you, Cloud!"

"Your confidence in me is staggering." Cloud resumed his search. The song in his head had stopped, which he found more puzzling than its presence in the first place. If Sephiroth was trying to contact him, no matter how annoying the method, why would he just stop?

He stepped aside to let Kadaj pass, then began his second sweep of the upstairs.

He'd only gone a few feet when he halted dead in his tracks, a cold chill sliding down his spine.

_Kadaj was singing that hippo song!_


	26. 25

**25.**

Yazuu's long legs made short work of the laundry room as he paced back and forth, deep in thought. How Kadaj had achieved Reunion didn't matter, though Yazuu had to admit he hadn't seen that coming. And whether or not Jenova was going to hold this whole Martha Stewart thing against them seemed moot as well: Jenova had what she wanted, thanks in part to Yazuu's planning, so she'd better be happy about it.

No, what had Yazuu vexed was a more immediate problem. "If he's our little brother and our big brother at the same time, does that make me the baby, and if so, does that entitle me to spoiling? But then, that would make Loz the middle child – would he have to become a cold-hearted bitch just to deal with the pressure?"

"Um, Yazuu?" Loz interrupted his brother's train of thought with caution. "Is Kadaj going to turn into Sephiroth again?"

"Probably," Yazuu replied. "I don't know why he keeps changing back and forth, though…."

"I think Sephiroth has to leave whenever Kadaj wants to do something else," Loz mused.

"Hm. Maybe… Or whenever Sephiroth himself gets bored. Thanks to sharing a body with Kadaj, Sephiroth may just have the attention span of a two-year-old."

"That's not good," Loz observed. Then something caught his eye, and he became fascinated with the Swiffer. "Uh, I'm sorry, what were we talking about?"

Before Yazuu could dignify that with a response, the door swung open. "So that's where you guys went!" Kadaj darted inside and shut the door. "Are we hiding from Martha again? She's scaring people."

"No, we're just talking," Yazuu told him. "How are you feeling, Kadaj?"

"Great! I think that punch had a lot of sugar in it!"

Loz and Yazuu exchanged a meaningful look. "Punch?"

"Yeah! Ever since I had some, I've been bouncing off the walls! Hey, check this out – it swivels and goes flat to get under the appliances!"

"Yeah, isn't it great?" Loz agreed, Swiffering beneath the dryer.

Yazuu closed his eyes and leaned back against the door. "We need to get out of here and sort this through. I'm really at a loss – I mean, what are we supposed to do with you?"

A low voice laden with pheromones replied, "What do you _want_ to do with me?"

Yazuu's eyelids snapped up like a sprung window treatment.

Where Kadaj had been now stood a tall, bare-chested, leather-clad hunk of legendary proportions, his perfectly chiseled lips curved in a smile that hinted at higher levels of perversion than Yazuu had ever dared to imagine.

Yazuu's own mouth dropped open and stayed that way.

Sephiroth leaned closer, his silken hair caressing Yazuu's cheek. "Well?"

Yazuu's mind flashed through the list in record time:

1. Here stands my god, sole purpose of my existence.

2. Is it warm in here?

3. Will my legs even fit around those powerful buttocks?

"Yes!" Yazuu shouted, flinging himself at Sephiroth with no pretense of modesty, dignity, or shame.

Loz sniffled. "But Yazuu, what about me?"

Sephiroth turned a wicked eye his way. "You're a seme, aren't you?"

For the first time in his life, Loz' mind worked faster than Yazuu's:

1. Here stands my god, sole purpose of my existence.

2. Wait, did he just say –?

3. Hot SOLDIER sandwich!

As the three began to enthusiastically explore their options, Loz paused to ask, "But what do we do if Kadaj comes back while we're in the middle of…you know?"

Yazuu broke from a breathless kiss and said, "Well, that would spare me from having to have The Talk with him…"

From her vantage point in the all-seeing Lifestream, Aerith (aka The Ghost of Christmas Present) smiled down on the inhabitants of the laundry room and turned on her webcam.

* * * * *

And so it was that Kadaj got to "meet" Sephiroth, Yazuu found a new mother, and Loz…well, we're sure that the scorching three-way in the laundry room more than made up for Santa not bringing him a pony.

Here's wishing all of you a wondrous, magical holiday season filled with naked bishies and other tasty treats. May all your fandreams come true!

**The End.**

Wait, what about the loose ends and plot holes, you say?

That's what epilogues and fan fiction are for. (Hey, it worked for J.K. Rowling!)


	27. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

"I will _never_ be a memory!"

"That's nice, dear," Mrs. B said as she helped a straitjacketed Martha Stewart into the van. "You're just going to have a little vacation with these nice people, all right?"

"Do they have crayons? I can make some very nice things with crayons!"

"I think they do, dear. Now, wave bye-bye!" Mrs. B wiped away a tear as the van headed off to the celebrity wing of the Happy Happy, Joy Joy Rest Facility. Once they were safely out of sight, she turned toward Rufus Shinra and said, "Where do I sign?"

"Tseng will see to everything," Rufus said with a smile. "Good to have you on board!"

Tseng handed her a small pistol and a cattle prod. "Welcome to the Turks, Mrs. B."

She loaded her suitcase onto the helicopter and, with a last look at the house that had been her home for longer than she cared to think about, she took her first steps into a new and exciting life.

Or, in other words, she slipped away into the night, leaving the mess for someone else to deal with.

The cleaning crew surveyed the aftermath of the great Christmas reunion with mild trepidation. Scorched wallpaper around one of the electric sockets; tire tread and jackboot imprints in the carpet; green plastic goop coating the hardwood in the kitchenette: these things did not bode well.

Let's not even mention the biologicals on the laundry room ceiling.

"I think, given the scope of the destruction inside, I'm going out back to shovel some poo," said Mr. Rowe as he handed a dull putty knife to an intern and headed out the door.

Said intern contemplated the putty knife, compared it to the density of the green stuff on the floor, and went in search of a chisel.

Night wore on and the disarray throughout the house became steadily less disturbing. Mike and company left the laundry room and the buffet zone for last for the simple reason that no one wanted to touch either of them. Fortunately and unbeknownst to them, this meant that the Jenova cells in the spilled punch had time to die tragically like ants in amber, thus rendering the nearly-impenetrable substance quite safe.

Unfortunately, and also unbeknownst to them, this also meant that the Jenova cells in the bottom of the punch bowl had time to coalesce from the sticky green soup and stabilize.

A tiny black head peeked over the edge of the table, ear tips trembling. A little wet nose tested the air.

Francesca the French bulldog looked right, then left. Deducing that the humans were otherwise occupied, she hopped up onto the buffet table for a look around. Cookie crumbs, bits of brie, and non-dairy creamer enticed but did not satisfy. She sought headier fare this evening, and as luck would have it, she found some.

_Hm. I generally prefer lemon, but lime will do._

**Aaaaaaand…good NIGHT, everybody! ^_^**

**Credits and disclaimers:**

Apologies and thanks to the following individuals, cultural icons, and brand names for making this train wreck story possible (in approximate order of appearance/mention/sporkage): J.R.R. Tolkein; Peter Jackson; Squeenix; _Junon Rent-All (24-hour service! Need a lift? Call us!)_; ShinRa Enterprises®; Mike Rowe, "Dirty Jobs", and The Discovery Channel; ShinRa Fire Extinguishers®; H.R. Giger; Sigourney Weaver; the public library system; Harley Davidson Motorcycles; the Verizon cellphone coverage team; Kmart; Ford Trucks; "South Park: Bigger, Longer, Uncut"; Mistress Lina's House of Spank leatherwear; Ray Ban sunglasses; Milton Bradley's Twister; the tobacco lobby; Excedrin Migraine Relief; the Wutaian Tea Coalition; ShinRa Medical and Scientific Supplies®; H.P. Lovecraft and/or August Derleth; Ridley Scott; Yano slashers; All Things Martha; whoever first said "You won the internet!"; Villanous Pontificating for Idiots; Chocobo Racer Gold cigarettes; Stephen King and/or Jack Nicholson; Martha Stewart Cast Iron Cookware; Martha Stewart Home Office Fax Machines; Moose ent Sqvirrel Enterprises; Lego Mindstorms Cybernetic Wing Kit; otaku-designed she-armor; remember to designate a driver whenever you party; "Pirates of the Caribbean"; Maytag Washing Machines; Swiffer; the American Kennel Club; the Zack Fair International Fan Club; Zangan's Dojo for Wayward Girls; Nature's Miracle Pet Stain Remover; ACME Spy Gear; Green Chocobo Lime Sherbet; 7-Up; Enzyte – Natural Male Enhancement (get your free sample today!); NicoDermCQ; the tentacle hentai genre; Ponderosa's Rufus/Reno fan art; the WRO; the FTC; Webster's Collegiate Thesaurus; ShinWart ®; Anthony Burgess; Hojo's Build-Your-Own Monster Kit (ages 12+); the Corel Village Badminton Society; Prilosec; Sir Anthony Hopkins; Miller beer; "Kingdom Hearts"; Walt Disney; PS2; White Rabbit Virtual Reality Goggles; TLC's "What NOT to Wear – Anime Edition"; LucasFilms; "Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope"; "Hardware Wars" (we miss you; Auggie Ben Doggie!); Dixie Cups; MiracleGro; Sanrio Company; Chuck Norris Ninja Prep School; Frisbees; Merriam-Webster's Online Dictionary; "The Rosenkreuz Staff Christmas Party"; Gayla Peevey; the Oklahoma City Zoo; ; ; Boi Toyz Anal Lube; Carol Kane; HP7 (aka What the HELL Was She Thinking?); Happy Happy, Joy Joy Rest Facility (a subsidiary of Froh Froh, Freude Freude – Austria); ShinRa Riot Control Devices and Marital Aids®; and citrus-flavored fan fiction in all its variety and glory!

(Did I miss anything/anybody? Tell me and win a cookie!)


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